Institutional Missives Regarding Instructional Services
by Stephen Ratliff
Summary: Harry discovers that running the D.A., and then attending the Staff Awards Dinner resulted in a change to how his next academic year would be


_**Author's**** Note: **__Enjoy this somewhat of a surprise to me sequel to _Remuneration for Instructional Services_ Blame the discord transition for Caer Azkaban for it ... and maybe something more for another sequel  
_

Harry Potter had a different relationship with his Aunt than most people had with their aunts, even when they were custodial aunts. For most of his sixteen years it had been an adversarial bordering on abusive relationship. However, since he'd received remuneration for his instructional services the prior year, that relationship had changed a bit. Apparently Aunt Petunia had great respect for anyone who was a Professor, even if it was magical.

The moment he'd got that letter for his OWL and NEWT student's results as well as the invitation to the yearly faculty awards dinner, his Aunt had suddenly put him on a pedestal. She'd drug him to the store to get a proper professor's suit for the dinner, and she had a rather particular standard for that suit. He could see that suit at the moment, in all it's gray glory, hanging in his doorless closet. There were also other new clothes in the wardrobe, and brand new underclothes, too.

Uncle Vernon was quite surprised at the change, especially since Aunt Petunia was now insisting on making sure Harry studied, rather than do the heavy load of chores that he'd always done. He still had to cook breakfast though. Apparently Uncle Vernon had "long ago realized that Potter made the best breakfast." Harry thought the statement might have hurt Aunt Petunia's feelings a bit.

So on the Monday after the Hogwarts Faculty Awards Feast, Harry was sliding four sausage links and eggs onto his Uncle Vernon's plate when a Hogwarts Owl swooped in from the open Conservatory door. The bird landed on the back of the mismatched chair that was Harry's, and held up a leg so Harry could take the message. Harry quickly put the pan back on the stove, and returned to take the letter. His aunt looked at him a bit strangely.

"Well, open it and read it, Boy," Uncle Vernon said. "You want to hear it, right Petunia?"

Opening it, he read.

"Dear Professor Harry J. Potter, Defense Against The Dark Arts.

We do not have on file your required text selections for the upcoming term. Please submit them using the attached form to the Deputy Headmistress by Saturday. Remember that the term begins on September First, and as a returning professor you are expected to arrive at Hogwarts no later than August Twenty-Ninth, unless an exception is granted by the Headmaster.

Hogwarts wishes to convey it's appreciation for your dedication to the safety and education of our students, and your particular top results for the prior year. We hope that you will continue to serve Hogwarts for many years.

Sincerely,

Professor Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Head of Gryffindor House

Professor of Transfiguration"

"Well, Harry, it looks like they want to keep you as a Professor," Aunt Petunia said to the silence that had descended on Number Four.

"I didn't even know I'd been hired," Harry mumbled.

"It doesn't matter," Aunt Petunia dismissed airily. "You, are a Professor ... " Then with a far away look she continued. "I dreamed of being a professor, you know. I had all the courses and the degree in hand before Dudley was born. Oh well." Then her face took on a serious expression that Harry knew was one you didn't say no to. "You will be one for as long as I have anything to say about it. I may not have shown it, but I do care, you're the only reminder I have left of my little sister; and if there was one thing she was certain of, it's that Hogwarts is as safe a place to be in that world. Now, get those texts together, and owl that Deputy Headmistress. Oh and be sure to ask how early you may arrive."

It seemed to Harry that his Aunt had totally turned around, this last bit, as he considered his aunt's words, well it explained some things. At least he thought it might, but he really didn't have time to think at the moment, as Dudley pounded down the stairs, not as late as some days, but demanding his breakfast, "Potter, start my breakfast now!"

"Usual Dud?" Harry asked, using the shortening of his name that Dudley had started to prefer. Harry hadn't figured out why, as if he'd been in Dudley's place he would have gone for the other syllable. Dudley's grunt in confirmation was enough for him to put on the slightly more healthy turkey sausages to cook and get out the grapefruit from the fridge. Aunt Petunia had given in on part of Dudley's diet. Dudley in return had completely given in on his coach's insistence on a daily three mile jog that Harry joined after breakfast.

He'd think about everything then, unless Dudley had something to say again.

* * *

Professor Minerva McGonagall was quite puzzled when she received a missive via Hedwig as she sipped her tea on Thursday afternoon. It was a rather nice day in the Highlands of Scotland, with the breeze flowing rather nicely across the terrace behind the Faculty Wing. She was alone for once, as Sibyl was attending a Divination Conference at Delphi. McGonagall was very skeptical of Divination as a subject, and more so Sibyl as a professor, but there was one thing that she did enjoy about Sibyl. Sibyl could always find the best deals and quality for any drink. Coffee, spirits, and of course, tea.

McGonagall took a deep breath through her nose, taking in the smell of the black ginger tea. It was some the best she'd ever drunk. She put it down and took the envelope from Hedwig. She was surprised to discover that it was addressed to "Deputy Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry" in a rather feminine hand. Enclosed, however, was a rather standard form in Harry Potter's distinctive hand, he was the only student she currently had who tended to forget pick up the quill when going to cross his T's, and his I's dots were slanted to the left unless there was a T in the word.

Why was Potter sending in a "Required Text by Professor" form, though? The third line of the form did inform her that it was for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Folded together was a letter from Harry. McGonagall read it carefully. It seemed that he'd received the form and was a bit confused. He still filled it out, of course. McGonagall went back to the form.

All three books by Miranda Shilde were there, out of the publication order, of course. McGonagall particularly liked the choice for a first year text of _Run! The Art of not Being There._ Second year was the middle book, _The Best Offense is a Good Defense_, and the first book, _The Best Defense is a Good Offense_ made a good fourth year book. She'd seen Miss Granger dump the omnibus edition of the trilogy in front of Harry last January. _Proper Defense Against Fantastic Beasts: Disarming without Harming_ by Newt Scamander was a perhaps the best creature defense text book to come out in the last century, and the brand new third edition promised to continue that. McGonagall had a reviewers advanced copy of it, signed by Newt.

The fifth year text was the rather pedestrian _Extra Ordinary Wizards Lore: Examining Ominous World Leaders_ by Walden Grim, but it was definitely a better choice that what the toad had made. The sixth and seventh year texts were fairly good as well, chosen well to fit the overall curriculum. A glance back at Harry's letter revealed that he had a question about covering the weaknesses of Professor Umbridge's teaching, and if it might be advisable for second through seventh, or possibly just third through seventh to get the prior year's text as well.

A moments pause to consider, allowed McGonagall to admit that it was a good question, one that she hadn't heard from any previous Defense professor, no matter how much it was needed. There would be a need for catch up, especially with fifth and seventh years. She knew that if Harry had taught all of the OWL and NEWT students last year the grades would have been a lot higher overall.

It was with some surprise that she suddenly realized that she was considering the idea of Professor Harry Potter as a soon to be sixteen-year-old full time Professor of Defense Against the Dark arts. She put down the letter, and took a sip of tea as she considered the idea more seriously. There were some real benefits, though there were also issues. She put down the tea and got up. It was time to talk to Albus about Defense Against the Dark Arts.

* * *

Petunia Dursley was glad that Harry was out jogging with Dudley when the mail came. There was something satisfying about getting responses to applications in the mail. She expected a fair amount of rejections, and maybe a few requests for interviews. She was sure that her applications had been sent before the deadlines, but at least in the case of Hailsham, it might not have arrived via Royal Mail in time.

She put aside the utility bills for Vernon to deal with, and looked at the return addresses. She arranged them in alphabetical order; Ackley Bridge, Coworth Park School, Cruchem Hall, The Experiment House, Grange Hill, Saint Trinians, and Smeltings. That was a list that a bit larger than she expected to get on any one day. In fact, it was nearly a third of the schools she'd sent applications to.

She got up to get the letter opener which wasn't where it was supposed to be. As she returned from finding it on the telly of all places, Dudley had returned, and appeared to be picking up a letter from her mail. "Dudley Dursley, you will put that letter down right now," Petunia said with a tone that appeared to cause her son to gulp in fear. "Now." She kept her tone sharp and even. Her son may have been a bit spoiled, but he knew the tone well. The envelope found it's place back on the table.

"Now, Dudley, how many letters from Smeltings have not arrived to my hand," Petunia said as she stepped back to the table. She could smell her son's sweat from his long jog in the warm summer morning air. She picked up the letter and met her son's eyes. It was obvious to her that his sweat wasn't from his jogging anymore.

"Two," Dudley almost stuttered. Petunia knew her son's tells. She kept up the glare. "Three."

"I see, and what did you not want me to find out from your headmaster?" Petunia said, drawing the letter opener across the top of the envelope.

"IkindagotintroubleforkillingPierssnake," Dudley said in a rush. Petunia could barely parse what he said, as Harry slithered into the kitchen behind Dudley's bulk.

"Repeat that slower, and explain," Petunia said firmly.

"I got in trouble for killing Pier's snake," Dudley said. "I had detention for the last three Saturdays at the end of term." He looked up at her with such a pitiful expression that Petunia nearly ended her penetrating stare. "But it had bit Gloria."

"How long was the snake?" Harry interrupted.

"At least eight feet," Dudley said. "It was scary and Gloria had to have the fangs removed from her hand. I had to chop off the head. I had no choice. Okay, I did it with the historic sword that knighted Sir Gilderoy of Haggleton, the man who started the manor which Smeltings is in. But it wasn't like there was anything else I could have grabbed."

"You broke the sword, didn't you?" Harry said, taking out the pitcher of Dudley's favorite brand of lemonade, and pouring himself and Dudley tall glasses.

"Only a little ... and it was easily fixed," Dudley replied.

"I see," Petunia said, pulling out the letter from the envelop to read it. "It appears that I have an interview with your Headmaster next Wednesday for an open Literature position." She opened the next one. "And one at Saint Trinians the Tuesday before that, for a similar position. No such luck with Grange Hill. That is a shame, that one had a rather nice benefits package."

"Positions?" Dudley said taking the glass and downing a good half of it in one deep gulp.

"Harry's new job got me thinking about using my degree in Education for once," Petunia said, opening another one. "I didn't really want that one. I didn't really get to use it more than for one summer substitution job before I got pregnant with you." Another envelope was quickly opened. "A straight offer without an interview for Cruchem Hall? Well, I'll see about the other ones first. It's a fall back position."

A look up at Dudley revealed that her son had an expression of complete befuddlement. It didn't look good on him and she had to admit that it appeared on his face way too often. Her son was, as she was loth to admit, not the brightest in the box. "Oh. Then don't take the Smeltings job. It would be too weird to have you as one of my Professors."

"That's not a reason I'm willing to consider as a factor against, rather something for," Petunia said. "Any word back from Professor McGonagall, Harry?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry said as he sipped his drink slower. "I can arrive as early as ten days before the Express, but I will have to take the Knight Bus to get there. She's approved my text, and I sent her my outline for first and second years, as she advised. I should be done with third year this afternoon."

"See that you do," Petunia said. "Your Professor gave you good advice, and you should follow the advice of your respected peers. Except Serverus. Following Serverus's advice ultimately got my sister killed, and I don't want you killed. Is that understood, Harry?"

"Understood, Aunt Petunia," Harry replied. "Oh and Dudley, I wouldn't advise bragging about killing that snake, because compared to the one that I took on at Hogwarts at the end of my second year, yours is a measly earthworm."

"Remember, Dudley, the first liar never had a chance," Petunia admonished her son. Harry was smiling though. She could tell that while her son was exaggerating, Harry was telling the truth. She really should have read those letters from Professor McGonagall. Petunia resolved to make sure she always did so, and make sure all the parents of her furture students did so as well.

* * *

"I've removed everything that your immediate predecessor left behind, of course, Harry," Professor McGonagall said as she let him into the office. "A house elf, Dobby, has asked to be assigned to you. You may choose him, or ask for another one."

"He'll be fine, as long as he doesn't try to save my life" Harry said with a big smile that almost made McGonagall ask for the story behind that.

"I have taken the liberty of removing the pink cast to the stone, and replaced the desk, that was unfortunately damaged when the Aurors investigated Dolores's use of that blood quill. You may wish a new chair. Ask Dobby for a selection."

Harry sat down the existing chair and spun around completely. "This is okay."

"Check with Dobby anyway. You'll want the best possible chair here for meetings and grading. You'll spend lots of hours here. Any questions?"

"Yes, how did I actually end up as the returning Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor?" Harry asked.

McGonagall conjured a chair, taking a seat on the other side of the desk. "As usual, through an unusual series of events that could only happen to you. I have come to believe that if there is something unlikely to happen at Hogwarts, you will be somehow involved. I believe it started with your teaching of the Defense Association, which Miss Granger appears to have created a contract for, which she somehow tied to the wards of Hogwarts. Miss Granger claims she didn't do it however.

"This resulted in your name being inscribed in what is known as the Board, located in the same room as the quill and book that handles enrollment and letters. At the time, you were listed as 'Adjutant Professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts (Defense Association).' Albus saw the label when he returned to Hogwarts after Umbridge's illegitimate time as Headmistress. The board has both my and Dumbledore's signatures, so the quill can copy it for the various letters. He noticed that his signature was a little smudged, which happens from time to time, so after removing Umbridge's name, he updated his signature, confirming the current list of professors including you.

"His removal of Umbridge appears to have updated your listing to drop the Adjutant. At least that was the case, when I checked following your letter. This of course brought up another issue. At the end of a school year, any new teacher is to be evaluated by the Governors. The quill handles the notification, but there was no such notification done for you.

"My first thought was that you had not been designated as a Professor long enough."

"Let me guess, I have a rare exception?"

McGonagall looked up at the ceiling, briefly. "Apparently your high level of students who received outstanding and exceeds expectations scores taught by you last year resulted in you already having been evaluated as an outstanding professor by a competent authority, and thus your evaluation was not put on the agenda of the Governor's meeting, allowing us to miss your position yet again."

"And how did I end up with a two year minimum contract?" Harry asked.

"You're enrolled in Hogwarts for seven years, assuming you pass," McGonagall said. "Your enrollment was transitioned to employment. I am not certain what that means in regards to your further education. I imagine self study the most likely option, though I see that somehow you have already received an outstanding NEWT in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"I didn't know about that," Harry exclaimed.

"I'll have to find out where that came from," McGonagall said. "Now, I have two items that I think you need to put in your office." She reached into her pocket and pulled out two statues.

The first of them was a crystalline owl, about thirteen inches tall sitting on a gold base. The second of them was a crystalline wizard, his wand raised skyward, a couple inches taller on a gold base as well.

"You mean I get to keep both of them in my office?" Harry asked. "I thought Professor Snape was keeping the NEWT one in his office."

"You'll find there may have been some ... adjustments to the staff."


End file.
